


There is strength in you

by Queenofthebees



Series: A-Z Jonsa Kink Challenge [19]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A-Z Jonsa Kinks challenge, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, Post-Canon, Size Kink, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 20:44:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13598022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: “I can’t wait. I’ll take you nice and slow at first, for your first time. You’d like that sweetling wouldn't you? You'd like me holding you, making you feel safe, hmm?”“Yes,” she moaned, turning her face into the furs as his fingers sped up.“Yes,” he repeated and she could feel the smirk against her thigh. “And then, I’ll take you again like that, maybe a third time. Enough to get you used to my big cock.”“Oh god,” she gasped. Could it be done three times in a night? She supposed if anyone could do so, it would be Jon.Letter S (size kink) of A-Z Jonsa Kink Challenge





	There is strength in you

**Author's Note:**

> So, I kinda threw in a couple of size kinks. I mostly went a different route though and focused more on physical size being a turn on for Sansa, rather than the more obvious 'yay big cock alert!' route lol (besides, Tormund would tell her otherwise and then it would all be over :p)

“It is a natural thing you know.”

Sansa cast Myranda a look, reluctantly tearing her eyes away from where the men were training, where Jon was panting and sweating from the rounds, his arms bulging, firm stomach clenching with his breaths.

Her friend grinned at her, nudging her arm.

Since the end of the war, Sansa had asked her old friend to come and visit from the Vale. She had been delighted that her friend could visit so soon, even more so when Myranda had brought Mya with her.

Jon’s face when Sansa had run into the bastard girl’s arms had been a picture. Eyes wide and blinking repeatedly, lips parted. He had known she wasn’t the same girl she had been when they had left Winterfell but she doubted he had been prepared for her being so friendly and close to a bastard girl.

“What are you talking about?” Sansa asked, her eyes drawn to the courtyard again as the clanging of steel echoed around.

“It is natural for a woman to crave a big, strong man, to admire his strength. It signals protection and dominance, _claiming_ ,” Myranda stated simply, following Sansa’s gaze. Her friend smirked as Sansa’s cheeks coloured. “And I suppose that makes even more sense for wolves.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sansa sniffed, eyes fixed on the way Jon moved, his arms lifting and moving that Long Claw as if it were merely a sack of feathers. Myranda gave her a long look, unable to bite back the smile on her face.

“Of course you don’t,” she commented lightly, patting Sansa’s shoulder as she moved to walk past her. She paused, leaning her head back to whisper to her. “Plenty of other women have their eye on him by the way.”

Sansa huffed, automatically sweeping her eyes around the area in search of any women who might be lurking and watching him. She felt Myranda’s grin.

“And by the way, he has big hands,” her friend noted. Sansa frowned.

“What does that have to do with anything?” she asked, genuinely puzzled. Myranda cackled.

“You know what they say about big hands meaning something else is pretty big.”

Sansa’s head whipped around to meet Myranda’s sparkling eyes.

“Big and strong,” Myranda repeated. “A real alpha wolf. Worthy of the rose of Winterfell’s flower I’s say.”

“We’re not wed!”

“He would you know?”

“Wed me?”

“Aye,” Myranda smiled, giving her another wink. “And the other thing as well.”

***

She hovered outside Jon’s door, teeth biting into her lip as she worked up the courage to knock.

“Who is it?”

“Sansa.”

She felt her breath catch as she heard a slosh of water, the thought of him bathing in that copper tub set her heart racing and she was so caught up in her thoughts, she barely registered him opening the door.

The robe only just past his knees, his chest still visible and Sansa felt her whole face heat up as her eyes subconsciously dropped over his body.

“Is everything alright?” he asked softly, leaning out to look up and down the corridor. Sansa glanced at his hands as though just seeing them for the first time, her tongue tracing her lips before she realised what she was doing. “Sansa?”

“Oh, yes,” she replied, clearing her throat as the words come out high. He frowned and she felt her blush return as she cast her eyes down. “Um, I just have something to discuss with you.”

“Now?” he questioned, pulling the robe tighter around him. Sansa swallowed, realising that keeping her eyes down meant she had ended up appreciating his strong legs instead.

“It is rather urgent,” she murmured, looking back up at him.

He moved aside instantly, crossing over to the bed. She waited until he sat down before she made her suggestion.

“We should wed.”

Jon’s jaw dropped, his eyes bulging.

“Excuse me?”

“I am an unwed Queen,” she explained, pacing across the room, Jon’s eyes following her. “There will be offers coming now that the war is over. And, well, this match makes sense doesn’t it?” she said, gesturing between the two of them as Jon continued to stare dumbly. “I mean, I will have a husband I trust and …well…and you will have validation that you belong here, that you are a Stark and not a Targaryen.”

She glanced at him, finally settling into a chair. He cleared his throat.

“Aren’t I?” he asked softly.

“Aren’t you what?”

“A Targaryen.”

 “What makes you think that?” she whispered noticing how his eyes had fixed upon her lips as her tongue traced along the shape of them. His own twitched. His gaze pins her in place, his eyes dark and Sansa shivered. An alpha, she thought vaguely, her tongue tracing her lips. He could claim her right here, she wanted him to.

“Because I wanted to touch you even when I thought you were still my sister,” he said, rising to his feet and stalking towards her. “Because a sick part of me was glad to hear that Tyrion and Harry never touched you.

“If we wed, you can touch me whenever you like,” she replied, her hands reaching out to grasp his arm, tracing the muscle beneath the material. He released a growl, his body moving to pin her against the wall and Sansa moaned, her eyes wide as she met his hungry gaze.

“Would you like that?” he murmured, his eyes dropping to watch her hand as it still stroked his arm.

“Yes,” she whispered, the word barely past her lips when he tilted her chin up and slotted his mouth to hers.

She moaned softly, fingers digging into his arms. Myranda’s words run through her mind, how his strength signals protection, dominance, claiming. And she surrenders to it all. Jon will protect her until his last breath. And he will make her his tonight.

She can’t help but bury her head against his neck as they part, his arms encircling her waist and pushing her against him, hands stroking up and down her back. She can feel the muscles of his back, shivering at this strong man that has claimed her for his own.

He lays her down on the bed, his body covering hers and her hands automatically find his arms again. He grinned, placing a soft kiss to her lips.

“Has the lady found something she likes?” he whispered, pressing their mouths together again. She smiled as he continued placing peck after peck against her lips and then remembered he had asked her a question.

“I like your arms,” she said breathlessly, her eyes fluttering shut as he started pressing kisses along her jaw. She felt him chuckling against her skin.

“My arms?”

“You’re strong,” she moaned, tilting her head back to allow him better access. He hummed softly, licking up the column of her throat. “And big.”

He groaned, high and desperate and she realised how it sounded to him. She had meant in terms of his muscles and how broad he had become. But a man could take it another way and, as his hips rocked forward she felt him against her and gasped. Well, she hadn’t been wrong there either.

She was still a maiden but her time as Alayne had made her more aware of what truly occurred between a man and a woman. And well, Myranda had taught her a thing or two in hushed giggles.

“I want you Jon,” she whispered, nuzzling against him, and whimpering as he moved away.

“Are you serious about wanting to wed?” he asked. She nodded, reaching up to try and bring his lips back to hers. He grinned, granting her a quick peck. “Then we need to wait, sweet girl.”

“No,” she growled, sliding her hands up and down his arms. He chuckled.

“Well, for the main event we do I’m afraid, I insist,” he replied, rubbing his nose against hers. “You deserve a proper wedding and a proper wedding night.”

She huffed, shocked at how disappointed she was that he wouldn’t be holding her in those arms of his, that she wouldn’t have his big, strong body moving above her, that she wouldn’t be able to run her hands over his broad shoulders and back.

“I could do something else though,” he murmured. She felt her brows pinch in confusion as he moved to his knees, his hands grasping at her skirts and she jerked as his hand brushed against her small clothes.

“Hush sweet girl,” he cooed, grinning up at her. “Let your big, strong man take care at you.”

His grin widened as he felt her shiver, his fingers pulling at the ties of her smallclothes. She raised herself up onto her elbows, her mouth parting to form a question as his head disappeared beneath her gown, her breath hitching as she felt his against her most private place.

“Jon?”

He pressed his hands against her thighs, pushing them apart and Sansa whimpered at how he held them firmly open as his tongue swiped up. She felt her eyes drooping as his tongue continued to slide through her flesh, lips closing over something that had her hips flying off the bed.

Jon slid an arm out from under her skirt, pressing it across her stomach and Sansa gasped, cheeks flushing at how he can firmly hold her down like this.  Strength signals dominance, _claiming_ , she remembered Myranda stating and she figured her friend was right again, she definitely did admire Jon’s size and shape.

She squirmed as he licked harder, lips sucking more intensely around the nub that was giving her such pleasure. She whimpered helplessly, hips shamelessly bucking up to rub herself against his face, his beard leaving burns on her thighs.

“Oh Jon, Jon!” she moaned, hands seeking out the shape of his head beneath her skirts, pressing down. “I want more.”

“Want my big cock sweetling?” he whispered, breath hitting her sensitive spot and making her keen. She nodded desperately. “Not until we’re wed.”

“Please!”

“I can give you something else though.”

He resumed his attack on her bundle of nerves and then she gasped as she felt a finger prodding at her opening, the tip pushing in and thrusting slowly. She whimpered, raising her hips in silent request and then she felt him push it in further, gently stretching her.

“Oh!” she breathed, feeling her cheeks flush for how good it feels. If his relatively large finger felt this good, she couldn’t wait for them to wed.

“Hmm, I can’t wait to have you sweet girl,” he groaned, adding a second finger. Sansa hissed as it pushed inside, the slight sting taking her by surprise. He paused the movement of his fingers, his tongue licking softly at her flesh to distract her. She took a deep breath, raising her hips again to show she was okay. He hummed, pumping the fingers in gentle, slow motions.

“I can’t wait. I’ll take you nice and slow at first, for your first time. You’d like that sweetling wouldn't you? You'd like me holding you, making you feel safe, hmm?”

“Yes,” she moaned, turning her face into the furs as his fingers sped up.

“Yes,” he repeated and she could feel the smirk against her thigh. “And then, I’ll take you again like that, maybe a third time. Enough to get you used to my big cock.”

“Oh god,” she gasped. Could it be done three times in a night? She supposed if anyone could do so, it would be Jon.

“And then, I’ll turn you over and take you like a wolf,” he promised, nipping her thigh. She whimpered helplessly, hips rolling up and up and up as he moved his fingers inside of her. “My strong body above you, would you like that?”

“Yes, yes!” she gasped, feeling a strange stirring in her belly, her thighs starting to quiver beneath his hand.

“And then, I’ll lift you up sweet girl. My strong arms will hold you up as I fuck you against the wall.”

“Jon!” she cried, her body overcome with pleasure, tensing and spasming. She moaned, his name echoing around the room along with his encouragement – _good girl, sweet girl, I’m here, I’m here._

He appeared from under her skirts, grinning up at her as she panted. She already wanted him again, wanted him to make good on all those filthy promised.

“Is tomorrow too soon to wed?” she asked.


End file.
